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Saturday, May 12, 2018

Good morning. Today promises to be a brilliant day. A great night’s
sleep. Meds taken. The sun is shining. Music is rocking. And today I come to
you happier than I’ve been in awhile.

I’m working on the Guardian Episode 4 and I’m thinking of working
on a novel. There’s something very cathartic about working on a book. Something
soothing and healing that you don’t necessarily get when you’re working on a
screenplay.

It’s funny. As irritable as I’ve been over the last few days I have
felt myself getting better. Although I’m sure those living with me might
disagree. I guess the best way to say it is that I don’t feel unstable and
fried and depressed.

I know I felt lost and alone and like I could trust and reach out
to no one when maybe that wasn’t necessarily the case. Isolation and loneliness
are nasty, tricky little monsters that my disease likes to unleash on my brain
when I’m at my most vulnerable.

People ask what my most cherished dream might be. Truthfully it
changes. But my most cherished wish is to meet Daniel Craig.

When I’m feeling blue or like I can’t handle the world on the world’s
terms I pull down Cowboys and Aliens or Skyfall and pop it in and do a little
daydreaming and set to writing with him in mind as the lead. Or rather the physical
incarnation of him that I can project some dysfunctional version of that I can
lead to some sort of redemption by the last page of the story that I can pen “the
end” on.

Truthfully it is difficult to clear the mind and rest when
everything is noise, noise, noise. Sometimes I just want to sleep and forget that
the world has other plans for you and your sanity.

I have been listening to music. Now I have to turn it off. It’s too
much for my jangled nerves. I figure once I eat and have my tea I’ll sleep for
another hour or so.

Sometimes I dream of the day I meet Daniel. And I fear he might
ruin it. How can he possibly live up to the dream and the fantasy I have in my
head of the advocate and the sweet man I hope that he is?

You’re an incredibly private
man. And even though I know sharing my life and journey of healing and pain in
such a way that it invites some sharp tooth critics to take aim at my very soft
heart and criticize me I don’t know if I could take my hero’s “rejection” of
the advocacy platform that I have been using to reach out to the world at large
when I feel so isolated and alone from this world.

I don’t know if my family understands how important it is from me
to talk to another human being. That physical human contact and comforts and
love is crucial to my healing and continued recovery.

I certainly don’t expect Daniel to fill this void. As we don’t know
one another. And truth be told he has no clue I exist. Or what this blog is
about. He is a universe away and the reality is we most likely will never meet.
And that’s okay. This blog is about me
reaching out to the world and the world reaching back and somehow we figure out
how to make it through a day living with severe mental illness without giving
into it’s awful tendrils of darkness. And allowing our collective lights to shine
through.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

ICFF was a success! Major interest in Letters to Daniel. An
explosive response to The Guardian! Usually I’m lucky if I make 5 or 6
connections that seem to have any real chance of panning out. I came away from
ICFF with 14 solid connections and have already heard back from five with
varying degrees of potential.

To say I am glad to be home, relaxing, enjoying lunch with Missy
and hanging out with my cousin Rebekah tonight as she works on a novel and I
wrap up my to-dolist for the day I have
to say recovery is always nice to embrace after a tense and anxious yet
glorious week of hard work in the name of making Letters to Daniel and quite
possibly making The Guardian a realityis nice.

Being on my feet, shaking hands, screwing up the courage to talk to
the big time speakers and try to get mine and Missy’s work into their hands.
Connecting with people who have more money than me who can facilitate our
mental health advocacy stories and vision for ending stigma and fostering
understanding and healing.

It’s been an awesome time to be sure but now I am ready for some
serious rest. People are telling me how impressed they are with how organized I
am compared to others. I have to admit I’ve had some wonderful mentors. Ray and
Kristina and Del and Theresa. And so many others.

It’s funny that they would call me organized. It is now the
following morning. I was dragging yesterday. I am not so sure I am not dragging
now lol.

Amazing things are happening to me and Missy and I really can’t
believe. But sometimes you really just have to step out on faith and just let
go of your preconceived notion of what the the Universe has in store for you.

I have been pushing Letters to Daniel since 2013 in some fashion.
Whether it be the blog, the book or the documentary or the script. And at ICFF
this it was no different.

But this year our episodic project The Guardian seemed to just
rocket into the mainstream consciousness where everyone wanted to see it.

That’s where it seemed the money was going. I wanted to make a
project so that’s where our preparation was going to have to go.

Not that it was a bad thing. The Guardian has quickly become a bad
thing. Writing as the show runner for a series that seemed to have a direction,
interest from the mainstream and a television executive and a producer(s) maybe
God and the Universe was trying to tell me and Missy something.

Cindy Bond talked of I Can Only Imagine being a mustard seed seven
or eight years ago. Perhaps Letters to Daniel will be mine and Missy’s. And
Letters to Daniel will be an Oscar night triumph where we prove the naysayers
wrong. And The Guardian will be the major step we take to get there.

ICFF was a triumphant week where 14 solid leads have already
transformed into two producer follow-ups this week where I will be talking to
one producer over the next two weeks and another today.

I am blessed. I am lucky. I have worked hard. May everyone else be
so gifted by the Universe.

Saturday, April 28, 2018

There’s always a point when I have to take a step back reconsider
all that I have going on. The goal had been to attend 2 festivals this month. Both
had considerably amount of pros. Unfortunately it came down to that old buggabo
money. And the fact I had none at the end of it all. I still had two major stops
on my festival circuit to attend and if I squeezed in another one there was
zero way I’d be able to attend them.

So I contacted Horror Hotel and asked if I could pick up mine and
Missy’s awards at Indie Gathering. And the festival director generously said
yes. Ray, Kristina, thank so, so much for understanding.

On to bigger news. Next Tuesday I get on a plane and fly to ICFF. To
say I’m freaked out would be an understatement.

It’s been a struggle to stay stable, this winter and spring. Lots
of changes to the routine and the unsettled weather has proven to be more challenging.
As more recently the mood has gone from depression to despair.

Even in the face of the streaming distribution/revenue share deal
we made for Letters to Daniel, to the partnering NAMI on making the film
available to their network of consumers and them publicizing the film. To the faith
based television executive reading the Guardian and loving it to the point that
he placed it on his wish list to be made that he gave to the studio heads.
Stress is still stress. As I have yet to secure funding for my passion project,
Letters to Daniel and this weighs heavily on me and grows heavier still as I
have put a lot of eggs in the ICFF basket where our career is concerned.

Between having a show in development in L.A. and pitching my
passion project that seems just beyond my reach of getting it made well it’s
beginning to wear on me. To many ups and downs. The choppier the waters the
harder it is to remain stable.

I’m fighting with everyone, even, god bless her Missy. I have every
reason to be happy. Festival nominations and wins. Steps towards the ultimate
goal. Bipolar disorder is such a nasty, nasty trickster of a disease. It can
make you happy one second then turn on a dime and make you it’s bitch the next.

Creeping despair and apathy where all of this is concerned. I just
want to write. I just want to create. I just want the world to know I am here
and that I speak up even when I feel bad. Today has been a beautiful day. I got
to meet with a friend and hang out for three hours before heading home. The sky
has been blue, the sun shining brightly. My mood should be vastly improved.
Alas it is not been to the degree or
fast enough for my liking.

I try not to pressure myself like saying. I’ve gotten up two
mornings in a row and have had a productive time of it. Small victories like
having some coffee and relishing the Irish creamer in it.

Sitting down quietly and penning a letter making sure I’m telling
the truth about my recovery. Truth is it feels like someone stole my mojo and
is holding it hostage. An God damn it I want it back!

I haven’t produced as much as I want to recently and honestly I
create because it brings me joy. Sometimes I wish Luke would curl up in my lap
and just sleep there until I was happy, old and gray.

But the brutal truth is that I’m already coloring a considerable
amount of gray and trying to be “professional” when I feel like is a little
girl running headlong at her dreams daring anyone to tell me I can’t do it.

They say let the hurts go. It’s at times like these that they hurt
the most. Because bipolar disorder is a nasty, trickster of a beast that brings
back all the bad and the shame and regrets and lamentations that you thought
you left behind.

When someone comes to you and says you hurt me because X and Y.
Where is there to go but Z.

I don’t have much patience or people who say I don’t have enough
time because I have the exact some 24 hours in a day that they do. Sacrifices
have to be made.

I made a conscious decision in late 2010 that I wasn’t going to
wait for my career to just happen anymore. I knew if anything good was going to
come of it I would have to go to the mountain myself and make it happen.

I’ve been working hard my whole life. But the truth is this things
are finally coming into focus on what I want to do. I want to create a mental
health awareness/advocacy legacy. In every arena. I want to be a personal
speaker who shares my story and has a reality tv mental health advocacy series.

Deciding whether to do a web series on my own or recruit a full crew and shoot
a pilot for it.

I’m at my strongest when I am doing advocacy work. I plan on creating
a legacy of helping people. I need to sit down and map it all out. When I talk
about advocacy and making it a reality I get excited.

Because at heart I’m
storyteller and there’s so much good I can do and it will help me get out of my
own head and keep me in the present day and help me to enjoy the good I am
doing now.

I’ve been meaning to organize this more so. I am looking into
speaking to groups no matterwhat their
size. This prospect excites me and I’m hoping people when I sit down to write
this out I’m going to be pitching film ideas at ICFF. But this advocacy work is
something I’ve always been passionate about.

The question is can I move others to be as passionate about it as I
am. I want to help people understand that life isn’t over when you’re diagnosed
with bipolar disorder. But if you embrace the diagnosis and surrender to the
process of recovery then chances are your life will get better.

Will it be smiles and happiness the whole way through. Life isn’t
like that for anyone. Life is completely random and chaotic in reality. And for
we bipolar bunches we need structure and routine.

Thursday, April 26, 2018

When I started this blog initially it was just supposed to be an
open letter of gratitude to you. But about halfway through the letter I
realized I was creating a platform of sorts for others like me. Those who had
survived abuse and were making a life for themselves even though mental illness
was a daily part of the routine.

Recently I’ve been slipping. Not with the medication. But moodwise.
Everyone is happy to see the victories, especially me. Professionally I’ve been
on something of a roll. Lots of victories there. But getting admittedly behind
the scenes things have been much harder for me.

Maintaining a sense of balance and putting more good days together
than bad ones has seemed nearly impossible. The weather and changing of the
seasons has wreaked havoc on me. And as excited as I am for the upcoming film
festival season financial stress, the anxiety of traveling alone, and the
reality that I’ve invested a lot in my career is freaking me out.

The last three days have been especially bad. It’s been like being
in a dark room with the door shut and locked. No light to see to guide me out.

I guess some would say, “think positive”, but for me it comes down
to going back to the basics. Wake up at 8am, take my meds immediately. Eat a
healthy breakfast. Keep caffeine to a minimum. Eat a healthy lunch. Write. Have
a midday snack. Dinner. Write some more.

Yesterday was so bad I couldn’t write at all.

I missed an appointment with my therapist at the beginning of the
month and the walk-in clinic complicated matters by first sending me home.
Second having my therapist call in sick. The second one couldn’t be helped I’m
sure. Then yesterday I got a lecture for missing the first appointment.

Things looked horrible, I was losing the excitement I had for ICFF
which Missy and I have worked very hard for and the whole world was just
closing in on me. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. The thought of
attending a festival we had worked so hard to set up for maximum impact on our
projects seemed to be slipping away right along with my hard won sanity.

I had been isolating and not wanting to get out of the house. Not
get out of bed. I slept all day. Took my meds eat and fall back asleep. Then
lay awake half the night. Then repeating the cycle. I played fast and loose
with the timing of my medication so that “I could write”.

I’m hoping I got of that train by taking a step back and in
choosing my next project. By combining two passions of mine, long verrrry slow
walking/running and mental health advocacy and continuing this blog as a part
of my treatment plan. I will follow blog/book/documentary format with Letters
to Daniel once again, with this installment being called Letters to Daniel:
Recovery Is Not An Endpoint. With the blog continuing with it’s original title
Letters to Daniel. To those who see this as a money grab. What you think doesn’t
matter to me anymore. Yes I want to make money. But the truth is this, the
people who need to see this will see this. And I need it emotionally and
psychology for my own healing as the people who might be reading this might
need it for theirs.

Lastly, I want to thank my caregiver, Missy Goodman for taking me to
a place where I see the Universe in all its beauty and getting me outside of my
own head. It can be a dark place with little to no light getting in. Yet she’s
always there for me. So if you are in active recovery for bipolar disorder,
anxiety, depression, PTSD or substance abuse drop me a line through the contact
form here. Or hit me up at klynd75@gmail.com.

Missy is also my creative partner in crime of over 20 years. She is
often tasked with the thankless role of Producer on our documentaries. Much
love my friend. Much love.

Amy Unplugged

Letters:the Memoir

From: The Author, To: Daniel Craig

Dear Readers,

Daniel Craig is my favorite actor. His work and acting style and how he carries himself professionally and personally inspire me greatly. Or more simply put by Kevin Smith about The Book Of Mormon Musical, he is my Spirit Animal. This blog is my memoirs as told to a silent witness of my choosing, Daniel. And of course all of you who visit daily to see me battle bipolar disorder, my dysfunctional family, or my personal demons. Or better, on my good days thanking those who have truly been my guardian angels. I thank you all who come and bear silent witness or sometimes leave a comment or two. Perhaps one day I will meet my hero, and get to thank him in person.